


the house you've built

by inflame



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Home, Living Together, M/M, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflame/pseuds/inflame
Summary: a tragedy in a home for two, told in six parts.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	the house you've built

**Author's Note:**

  * For [santal33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/santal33/gifts).



> Hi, May! so I was really in the mood to start write ushisaku, and actually portray them in a different way I guess? so I started listing every angst topic I could think of, and this is the one I ended up doing! It was really inspired by [**this one conversation**](https://youtu.be/iMFIehwHpSo?t=86) in Bojack Horseman with Diane Nguyen and Mr. Peanutbutter. It really hit me, and I just wanted to see if this was possible in their setting. I was so fired up because of this, and yeah I finished the fic. So, you asked for angst, and I delivered (I think, hopefully, yes.) :>
> 
> Enjoy, love.

\----

**It was beautiful.**

Wakatoshi removes his hands covering his eyes, and the scene takes his breath away. The garden, from the moment they walked inside the domain they could finally call theirs, was more than what he had anticipated. Their own source of nature is spread out in front of them, the vast green blinding yet complimenting the wide array of purple, yellow and red. Kiyoomi is no stranger to such, when he grew up surrounded by these in his own childhood home, and precisely why Wakatoshi picked _this_ estate with _this_ type of horticulture just outside the city. It was a small white house that was perfect for them. Beyond these metallic fences lies a future that they want to paint, filled to its brim with novelty, promises and a love that remains pure and genuine. They stride across the grass, stepping lightly on the pebbled floor leading to the entrance. He envisions the morning spent on the wooden chair below the window, reading and enjoying the view. He imagines his name being called as breakfast is served. Kiyoomi smiles at Wakatoshi, their hands linked, palms touching. He smiles back, squeezes his hand _I got you_ , and gets the key out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

**It was ideal.**

They rush inside as the rain continues to pour outside. Wet and tired, Kiyoomi sighs as he removes his shoes and windbreaker, and hangs it on the coat stand. He walks towards the bathroom and takes a quick shower. He steps out of the tub and dries his hair, shaking the exhaustion from his body, ready to enjoy the night with his lover, alone and away from work. He spots the two toothbrushes, blue and orange, at the corner of the marbled sink. He smiles, thinking how this was not part of his plan, but instead a fortunate turn of events, away from the thought of growing old alone and only having just one towel, one bathrobe, one toothbrush and toothpaste. Never in his wildest imagination did he think that outside those four walls, is the love of his life waiting for him, already cutting the vegetables. _I’ll handle those,_ Kiyoomi says, gently asking for the knife in Wakatoshi’s hands. He gives it to him and proceeds to take a shower. After preparing for dinner, Kiyoomi turns and spots the jacket lying on the couch, with his socks misplaced near the entrance mat. He picks these up and puts the jacket beside his and throws the socks in the hamper. Wakatoshi walks outside of the bathroom and wraps his arms around Kiyoomi, whispering seemingly sweet nothings in his ear. It may be indeed baseless affection but he’ll take them all, with or without meaning. It’s from him, anyway, he reasons. They have their supper, and enjoy the rest of the night with their limbs tangled on the couch, fingers interlaced, and their eyes remaining on the television, understanding the beauty in basking each other’s presence without words. Kiyoomi rests his head on Wakatoshi’s shoulder, and he in turn plants a kiss on his forehead. It was a tiring week, ending on a rather good note. As Kiyoomi closes his eyes, he reminds himself of the chores he has to do the next day, putting the mopping of the floor first and cleaning the leftover dishes in the sink. He’ll remember to ask for Wakatoshi’s help.

**It was enough.**

Kiyoomi wakes up, the rays of the sun reflecting on his face. He scratches the sleep from his eyes and turns to the other side, only to be greeted by an empty space. He lays his arms in front of him and runs his hand on Wakatoshi’s side, as if he was feeling his absence. _He didn’t come up_ , he thinks, but was instantly followed by the realization of what transpired the night before. It ended as a small argument, a harmless joke at first that ultimately made Kiyoomi feel humiliated. He pushed his seat back, ignoring Wakatoshi’s plea and went up the narrow stairs into their shared bedroom. That was the last thing he recalls. He drapes his legs at his side and props himself up. He folds the comforter and tucks it under the pillows. He scans the room that seemed bare with only the windows shedding light into it, and his eyes fall on their achromatic clothes and jerseys on the rack. He combs his hair with his fingers as he faces the full body mirror leaning against the gray walls. Kiyoomi shakes his head, thinking of how irrational he was last night and proceeds to slowly descend the stairs. It really was narrow, making it almost impossible for him to go up and down, especially with the low ceiling. Strangely, despite having such circumstances, Wakatoshi never had a hard time with it. It was only Kiyoomi. Was the stairs only meant for him? He jokes in his head. He catches Wakatoshi’s folded legs and arms on the couch, still fast asleep, the dishes clean and taken care of for the first time in a long while. Kiyoomi walks up to the sofa and crouches in front of Wakatoshi, tracing the sharp jawline with the back of his hand. Wakatoshi grunts and wakes from the touch. He leans into it, whispering _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said._ Kiyoomi nods _I know._ He kisses him on the lips, long enough for him to be assured. _I know, so come up and sleep on the bed._ Wakatoshi agrees and they fall back in bed. It was tough, but surely they can work things out.

**Until it wasn’t.**

Fights are now frequent, patience of each side continuously being tested, with even violence was being resorted to, something Kiyoomi has always promised himself never to do, to at least differentiate himself from his parents. And yet, here they are, two years and a half in, struggling to reach an agreement for the most trivial things. Silence never became more deafening as one storms out of the door, banging it as he leaves, the ceiling light slightly moving. He couldn’t count the times his pillow became tear-stained, waking up with a sense of nothingness and an unbelievable amount of fatigue. Kiyoomi even went to see the doctor, without Wakatoshi as always, and the doctor said he was fine. It was odd, how suddenly everything fell through cracks. Or perhaps it wasn’t. Kiyoomi thinks, _when did it begin? why hadn’t I noticed it? Had it been brewing all this time, ever since the first fight?_ They could no longer enjoy a night without ending it in a fit of rage, and begin another day without saying the words _sorry_ and _it’s okay_ . Kiyoomi thinks, _do we ever mean the words we say?_ They have become a broken record. 

**It wasn’t for them.**

“Did we love each other too much?”

“No. We loved differently.”

“Perhaps, so.”

“I’m sorry it has to end this way. I’m just [static noises]”

“But please, tell me where I went wrong, so I can fix it.”

“I can’t. I can’t change you, Wakatoshi. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I promised. I promised you. So, just please come home. ”

“That’s the thing. I’m so worn out. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Wakatoshi. I can’t come home.”

“So is this the end? Of us?”

“It ended way before. We were just too caught up in our own pride to notice it fall apart.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“I really loved you.”

“I know that too.”

“I still do.”

“I do too.”

“But I guess that’s it. We had a good run, huh, Kiyoomi? [weak laugh]”

“[deep sigh] Yeah. I guess. I’ll- I’ll see you later.”

_[CALL ENDED 00:09:35]_

**It wasn’t for him.**

He realizes that he lived in a house that became more and more foreign, as he seals the final box of his belongings. Wakatoshi gave him back his key, instructing him to leave it on the dining table after. He crouches down and carries the box to his car parked outside. He walks back in and takes a final stare. The house is now bare, finally rid of any trace of him, just as Wakatoshi had wanted, just as what he himself had wanted. He packs his blue toothbrush with him, gripping it with all his might. He looks at the empty sink that was filled with plates. Visions begin to play like a film. Them entering the house for the first time, enjoying a quiet meal, dancing to the tune of television static, to their first fight, to another fight, and another, and another. He looks back at the stairs, _too narrow, too low, tailored for him, never for me._ He should have known. The end was spelled out as soon as they stepped into the seemingly simple, white house, with a beautiful garden. Kiyoomi walks back to his car, enters the driver’s seat and rests his head on the steering wheel. He can finally breathe. They can finally breathe. He turns the engine on and drives away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an accountability note. I **will** write happy ushisaku next time. I really will. Feel free to remind me from time to time lmao. 
> 
> Also, side note: I played the whole discography of [Cigarettes After Sex](https://open.spotify.com/artist/1QAJqy2dA3ihHBFIHRphZj?si=POhKOMAAQMecvXFR8FmBhg) which is why I tried to make it have this haunting vibe.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/inflamist)


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